Politics (I): “Facili[gator] tears!”

When the person you fell in love with so 

foolishly that summer was only a

facilitator of moves towards grander schemes and 

means which meant, unequally, those tight-

fisted writes and 

wrongs quite unholy, and reports – holy moly! – and retorts 

and torts way behind the scenes, and foughts and a

multitude of legal and illegal teachings,

you must realise the extent to which a party 

you were late to,

and truly did once love with all your sport, 

has been protected by

pretty ugly and pretty casual and pretty informal outriders of

terrible chaos: these outriders who before claimed your

friendship so dear, like clan of shelled clam …

… closing in on your near.

And you deceived me so rotten, you Marys and you

Johns: the instinctual flocking together, which went just so

goddamn 

wrong!  So do tell me, please, with as much time 

as we’ll need, why did you make me lose my head

over a traitorous tottie 

like her?

No crocodile tears – even – shed for hobbyist me: just an

alligator troop of common interest ranged against

the lover I once could be.

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